


Steady Hands

by xxjinchuurikixx



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Come Marking, Eddie Lives, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of the Other Losers, Warning for Eddie's Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjinchuurikixx/pseuds/xxjinchuurikixx
Summary: He touches absently at the bandages neatly covering the hole that punched through his shoulder and out the right side of his chest, just beneath his collar bone, just above his lung. A bit lower, he would be dead. A bit more centered, he would be dead. On the left side, Eddie wouldn’t have a heart anymore, and he’d definitely be fucking dead. But Pennywise had speared him through the meaty, empty right side of his chest, and Eddie is alive and he isn’t shaking.





	Steady Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I am violently overwhelmed with Reddie feels. There will be more.  
xo, mo. Come yell at me on tumblr! [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)

Eddie’s fingers are surprisingly steady as he looks into the mirror over the sink, one hand in his wet hair, the other resting on the cold porcelain. The last two or three days had been an overwhelming hurricane of bullshit, but the last few hours remain in his mind, changing like slides changing on a projector, out of order, but vivid and bright.

He thinks of Richie, sitting on the bed just on the other side of the door, wet and clean from a shower he obviously took in another room, curled over his knees and looking small.

_ When they crawled out of the cistern, their feet had taken the six of them to the big drop over the blue-green quarry water. They kicked off their shoes and jumped from the cliff after blatantly ignoring the ‘No Jumping, No Diving Any Time’ sign. _

_ The dirty water didn’t burn the gash in his face, or the wound torn through his chest. He felt miraculously peaceful, bobbing in the water, watching his friends and listening to them talk and laugh.  _

He touches absently at the bandages neatly covering the hole that punched through his shoulder and out the right side of his chest, just beneath his collar bone, just above his lung. A bit lower, he would be dead. A bit more centered, he would be dead. On the left side, Eddie wouldn’t have a heart anymore, and he’d definitely be fucking dead. But Pennywise had speared him through the meaty, empty right side of his chest, and Eddie is alive and he isn’t shaking.

_ In the water, Richie had come up behind him, head dropping till his forehead pressed against the back of Eddie’s neck, that single point of contact making Eddie close his eyes and just breathe. Richie’s curls dripped fresh water down his neck, and Eddie very carefully, lightly, pushed back into the touch. _

_ After showering till the water went cool, Eddie sat on the edge of Richie’s bed at the Derry Inn. They were exhausted, but they were clean and alive. Richie had knelt in front of him, carefully taping down the bandage over Eddie’s horrifying wound, gauze soaking up blood until the cotton was red and warm, but the topmost layer remained white. The wound was already healing itself, doused in the water of their childhood and carefully washed with Ivory soap and alcohol. _

_ Eddie didn’t want to go to the hospital, not yet. In the parking lot of the Derry Inn, everyone took a silent moment to decide whether or not it was alright for Eddie to outright refuse the emergency room. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Just… fuckin’ tomorrow, okay?”  _

_ He let Beverly kiss his cheek, her warm hands cupping his neck. Ben and Mike hugged him until the wound in his chest felt like it might close itself up, just like that. Bill had pushed the hair back from Eddie’s face over and over, until it felt like Eddie might pass out on his feet. _

_ He didn’t go back to his own room. He was ushered up the stairs and into Richie’s room, then lead to the bathroom, where Richie carefully pulled his shirt over his head while the shower warmed up. It seemed natural as anything that their hands were joined, fingers laced together the whole walk up. _

_ The water danced with light, like the sun had never shone so bright in Derry before. Bev’s hair was glittering, Bill’s eyes brighter than ever, Ben’s smile blinding as he and Mike started a splash war. Eddie’s mouth tasted like his own blood and earth, his nails black in the beds, and if he weren’t in the water, he wouldn’t have been able to stand upright. But he had Richie, right there. _

_ The bathroom was steamy, chasing the chill from Eddie’s skin, but his arms were covered in goosebumps as Richie looked him over. Their fingers brushed absently, six, seven times, and when Richie seemed satisfied in his inspecting of the gaping hole in Eddie’s shoulder and chest, he let Eddie climb into the shower. _

Eddie looks up into the mirror, dark eyes a sharp contrast to his blanched skin. He swallows, looking down at his hands, still and steady. When he remembers how to breathe like a calm person, he opens the bathroom door and goes back into the room.

Richie hasn’t moved. He’s sitting at the foot of the bed, picking at a cuticle, and when he hears the door open, he looks up at Eddie with big, crystal-bright eyes. His cheeks are bright red, wet, and Eddie walks over to him and sits down beside him. He grabs Richie’s hands, pulling them into the space between them, and Richie turns his head and drops it onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“We should really take you to the hospital. Your face… the… the f—“Richie breaks off, and Eddie hears him sniffle.

“The big hole in my chest?”

“Eds, what the fuck?”

Eddie tilts his head, until his cheek is resting on top of Richie’s head, dark curls tickling his cheek. “It’s fine… It doesn’t even hurt. I think… I think just knowing It’s dead is, like, taking the pain. Feels like it’s healing.”

“Could be. Or it could be a staph infection,” Richie huffs.

Eddie smiles. “I’m alright. Really, Rich… I promise, first thing in the morning, hospital. Stitches, shots, the works—whatever. Right now, I just… I can’t with that. I’m more worried about you.”

“Me?” Richie picks up his head, fussing like he’s going to drop Eddie’s hands, but Eddie doesn’t let him. “You got fuckin speared, Eddie. Stabbed through and  _ thrown _ at the ground. Oh, and this was after you got a fucking knife put in your fucking cheek.”

Eddie purses his lips, feeling the cut twinge under the bandage at the motion. “I didn’t die, Richie.  _ We _ didn’t die… we’re—everything’s fine now.”

“It’s not all just fine now, you fucking little shit,” Richie says angrily, yanking his hands free. He gets up off the bed, and Eddie watches him pace, because maybe Richie needs to be moving right now. “Your blood. Your  _ blood? _ It was on my  _ face _ , Eddie. My fucking hands, I—“he breaks off, shaking his hands out.

Eddie looks down. “I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you fucking apologizing? You’ve got a  _ hole _ in your body.  _ Two _ , if you count your fucking face.” Richie goes to his knees in front of Eddie then, cupping his cheeks, careful of the bandage. “You got stabbed in the face, Eds.”

“Went right through the meat between my teeth. Really, aside from the pain, I wasn’t in any danger of dying from a hole in my cheek.”

Richie pulls one hand back, shaking, like he wants to smack Eddie for saying something like that. “Besides the fucking point!”

“Richie—“

“You know the kind of stress you give me? I could pop a blood vessel just thinking about the last twenty-four hours,” Richie pants. “Let alone back  _ then _ , the shit I’m remembering, the…”

Eddie looks down at his hands. “I’m remembering stuff too, ya know.”

Richie wheels around, throwing his hands out. “Like what?”

“Like your hands on my face… trying to get me to look at you with my arm broken and a killer clown coming at us.” When Eddie looks up, Richie’s mouth is agape, and the beginnings of a blush are starting on his pallid face. “Like you sneaking through my window when… when my mom kept me home with that cough.”

Richie looks away. “Couldn’t let you die by yourself. Cause we thought you were dying.”

Eddie smiles. “I wasn’t dying… Not even close compared to some of the other stuff that’s happened. I remember you being my best friend, and you being afraid of something I couldn’t protect you from.”

Richie stiffens, hands curled to fists, and then his whole body goes lax. “Yeah, I was fucking afraid,” Richie whispers. “The subtext was there—if any of us were gonna die… it was… if one of us… it would be…”

“Richie, I would have never let that happen.  _ We _ wouldn’t have let it happen,” Eddie says sternly, reaching out only to have his hand smacked away.

“Don’t bullshit me like the others knew. Know.”

“Stan knew… Bev knows… I know,” Eddie says, very tiredly. He holds his hand out, and Richie slaps it again.

“Don’t you think touching someone like me might make you sick?” The venom in his voice makes Eddie recoil, like it’ll burn his hand if he reaches out again.

“…Richie, you’re my best friend. You always have been.”

“Did you know? Did you fucking know?”

“No.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Eddie.” Richie tugs at his own hair. “Okay, maybe you didn’t know then, but you fucking know now. Hindsight is fucking 20/20, and you’re putting the puzzle together. Big fucking neon sign that says “Richie Tozier is a Fa—“

“Don’t,” Eddie snaps. “Don’t call yourself that; don’t be so fucking mean.” 

“Why not? Might be better to treat it like a dirty truth instead of a dirty secret,” Richie says, and he shudders. “Might as well have it tattooed on my forehead, if everyone just fucking  _ sees _ it already. Can’t even look at you without—shit. Fuck.”

“Richie, what the fuck are you trying to say?” Eddie says, moving to get up off the bed so he can slap Richie upside the head.

“I’m in love with you, you asshole,” Richie snaps, pushing Eddie back. “I’ve been in love with you, for… since… from fucking for _ ever! _ ”

Eddie blinks, his throat tight and heart pounding, but hands still steady. He gets up off the edge of the bed and grabs Richie’s face between his hands. “Richie—“

“That’s not alright, get off me. Kids shouldn’t look at their best friends the way I looked at you, the way I thought of you. And then you left, and I left, and we… You know how weird it is to live your life knowing there’s one thing you want? But you don’t know what that is? Or who it is, or why you feel that? You know how fucking fucked up and maddening that is? You know how much it hurt when this cursed fucking town took you from me? Shit.” Richie grabs Eddie’s wrists, like he’s going to take his hands off his face, and Eddie is not having that shit.

He gets his foot between Richie’s ankles, kicking and pulling, and when Richie flops back on the bed Eddie’s in his lap, thighs spread across Richie’s waist.

“Richie, I know  _ exactly _ how that feels… Rich, look at me,” Eddie says, thumbs at the hollows of Richie’s cheeks.

Richie looks up at him, flushed dark under the frames of his glasses.

Eddie opens his mouth and closes it a few times, not sure what he’s trying to say, what he’s going to say when he figures it all out. “I missed you. When I was forgetting everyone else, this town, my mom, my childhood, everything… I missed you. You’re a piece of me I needed, and I’m not trying to be mean to the others, but when you walked into the restaurant, when you touched me for the first time in twenty years, I felt…”

Eyes glowing, Richie lifts one hand, carefully touching Eddie’s side.

Eddie closes his eyes. “I wasn’t scared. You felt like the only thing between me and that fear. The memories of you, and  _ us _ , that made me stay. When you wanted to leave, I would have gone with you. When you stayed, I stayed. I would have done whatever you wanted, because I remembered you and me.”

Richie’s fingers curl around his narrow side. “Eds…”

“We could tell the others. None of them would say anything, or think anything different… I know you’re—like that,” Eddie tiptoes around the word, trying not to spook Richie as he’s calming down under his hands. “And I probably am, too… but I’ve never thought about it, really. I don’t think of guys that way… So maybe it’s just for you. Maybe I’m just for you,” Eddie says, not sure he’s making sense, not sure if he’s speaking slowly enough for Richie to understand.

But Richie cups his neck and pulls him down, and kissing Richie is nothing short of everything Eddie’s ever wanted. Eddie lets himself lie down across Richie’s chest, fingers tangling in the blankets on either side of his head, and Richie stuffs a hand under his shirt, the other still at his neck, holding him close by heated touch on skin.

Eddie pulls back to gasp, inhaling so hard it hurts, and Richie tries to yank him back down. “Slow down, Tozier.”

“Eddie, it’s only ever been you,” Richie sighs, holding onto Eddie desperately.

Eddie feels his breath steady out, his hands coming up to press to Richie’s chest, and then he’s kissing him again. It’s breathless and warm, tongues sliding and hands moving—in Richie’s case. He slides his hand from Eddie’s neck to cup his cheek, fingers riding down his ribs to his hip, to his thigh.

The kiss melts them both, their bodies lax and warm as the sounds between their mouths rise. Eddie realizes a moment too late he’s grinding on Richie’s lap, slowly rocking his hips over the obvious interest in Richie’s pajamas.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, pulling back. “We don’t have to… go so fast. Or slow, slow is good. Fast is nice, but if you’re still feeling conflicted then I shouldn’t be pushing you like this.”

Richie laughs, chasing his mouth. He gives Eddie’s lips several soft pecks and a teasing nip. “Fast and slow and everything in between, Eds. I just want you.”

Eddie feels the tension pull from his shoulders, relieved, and the pressure in his groin comes into focus. “So… what are you thinking?”

“I was thinking… if you want… you could fuck me?” Richie gasps, his ears glowing red, and Eddie smooths his hands over Richie’s chest.

“That’s what you were thinking?”

“Only for about my entire life. You, me, that’s it. Or, you know, whatever you want. I have decades of spank bank material, if you’d like me to lay out some scenarios,” Richie says.

“You could fuck me, if you want,” Eddie says, lips tracing over Richie’s jaw, delighting in how his breath hitches. “We could fuck each other.”

“Don’t think my dick can bend that way. We can’t fuck each other, Eds,” Richie says sadly, and Eddie sits back and swats at him, wrist easily caught by Richie’s long-fingered hand.

“You’re so stupid.” Eddie groans without malice. “I meant we can do whatever, anything, everything you want.”

“That’s a lot,” Richie says with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

Eddie leans back down, kissing Richie quiet as he reaches between them. He slips his thumb under the band of Richie’s pajama pants and runs it along the soft skin there, feeling Richie tremble. “We’ve got time. You don’t have to be scared anymore; not with me here.”

Richie shudders, the soft, broken moan falling from his lips actually startling Eddie. “Well, you have a hole in your chest, so—“

“It doesn’t hurt, I swear,” Eddie says, kissing Richie’s neck. Richie’s hands come up to touch his hips, fingers tugging lightly at Eddie’s pajamas. 

“Not about the pain. Don’t want you to make it worse. Blood rushing, heart pounding. Could bleed to death.”

“The blood’s rushing somewhere else, dipshit.”

Richie groans again, rolling his hips up into the space between Eddie’s spread legs, and Eddie sighs against his neck. “Still.”

“Okay. No fucking then, not today. But at least let me, lemme—“Eddie breaks off, pushing Richie’s bottoms down until the head of his cock and a few thick, flushed inches peek free of the waistband. 

Richie grips his hips hard, near bruising. “Naked. Can you get naked? That’s something I’d really,  _ really _ like right now.”

“Can you be naked, too?”

“Oh, no can do, senor,” Richie huffs, and Eddie sits back and grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it off the side of the bed. The edges of the cut twinge under his bandage, but it doesn’t hurt to utilize the mobility he needs to make wanting Richie look as effortless as it feels.

Richie gawks up at him.

“Shirt for a shirt,” Eddie says.

“I can’t believe you. We’re  _ forty _ . How  _ dare _ you?”

“What?” Eddie looks down, suddenly feeling uncomfortably self-conscious. 

“You’re, like, ripped. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“It’s not like I’m Ben, okay?”

“Oh, so you  _ did _ check him out. I knew, I fucking knew.”

Eddie grabs the hem of Richie’s shirt, hiking it up a bit but not pulling. “Trust me, I gave him a glance, but  _ you _ have been waking up some awkward boners I haven’t felt since we were teens. So, I’m not taking this off for you. But it’s coming off if you want to get off with me.”

“Plays on words. Oh, Eds,” Richie grumbles, grabbing his shirt and wriggling awkwardly, hiking it up. The collar gets stuck around his head, and he awkwardly rips it off and drops the shirt, throwing his arms out, hair wild. “Think you can handle all of this?”

Eddie grins, setting his hands on Richie’s abdomen, one covering the stupid tattoo by his belly button. “Absolutely.”

“Kiss me, dork,” Richie begs, and Eddie leans down over him and connects their mouths. Richie rakes his fingers over Eddie’s bare sides, catching along the ridges of soft but toned muscle. Eddie gets both of his hands in Richie’s hair, and he licks over Richie’s tongue with abandon and focus.

When Richie tugs Eddie’s pants down over the curve of his ass, his dick twitches, suddenly free, and Eddie breaks the kiss off with a moan. “Just helping out.”

Eddie grumbles, rucking his dick against Richie’s naked stomach. “You’re always so helpful.”

“Good Samaritan, just doing my duty. Ready to lend a hand,” Richie sighs, the head of his dick leaking against his stomach, wetting Eddie’s.

“Gotta get off of you to get these pants off,” Eddie groans, rolling his hips like he’s done this a thousand times. He’s surprised by his own expertise, having only ever kissed one guy at a Christmas party, only ever thinking of the Richie he couldn’t even remember when he used his own hands for these kinds of fantasies.

Richie whines. “But you’re so warm.” His fingers run over Eddie’s ass and squeeze, making Eddie whimper. “Just fuck the pants, who cares? Cum washes out.”

“You’re so gross,” Eddie says, biting Richie’s lip and rolling off of him. The motion pulls on his shoulder, and he lies down and hisses.

Richie crawls over him, kissing his temple, his cheek. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just realizing I have a hole punched through my shoulder.”

“I’ll be careful with you. I promise, I’ll always be careful with you, Eddie. I wanna take care of you,” Richie sighs, kissing Eddie before he can say anything else.

Eddie tilts his mouth away, and Richie kisses his throat instead. “Pants, off. You wanted me naked.”

“I intend to keep you that way. Perhaps a French maid outfit will be purchased. Maybe just an apron. Maybe just stockings!”

“Fucking idiot.”

Richie crawls down the bed, peeling Eddie’s pants down along the way. The soft cotton drops to the floor, Richie’s broad, long-fingered hands smoothing up the insides of Eddie’s thighs. Eddie shudders, and when Richie’s warm breath rushes over the head of his cock, he almost comes.

“Don’t,” Eddie gasps, tangling a hand into Richie’s hair. Richie gives him a tiny, gentle kiss, right to the head, and Eddie’s back bows. “I’m fucking serious, Richie, fuckin’ stop.”

“You’re killing me, Eds. I just wanna taste,” Richie begs, pressing his thumbs into the soft skin on either side of Eddie’s balls, making him spread his legs. He nuzzles his nose into the short, neatly trimmed hairs in a thatch above Eddie’s cock, breathing deep.

“I don’t want to come without you, fuck, you fucker,” Eddie says, voice breaking as he covers his face with his free hand, blushing so hot he feels dizzy. He pulls Richie’s hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Richie moan.

“That’s so romantic, baby,” Richie says, crawling between Eddie’s legs, pants sliding down around his knees as he goes.

Eddie opens his eyes, and he shudders when he looks down between them. His cock is dripping thin, shiny precum streaks along his stomach, and Richie’s cock is sliding up next to it. It’s longer, thicker, the dark curls around the base soft from being washed, and Eddie’s jaw clenches because he gets the weirdest fucking thought ever. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Oh,  _ wow _ ,” Richie says, then crushes Eddie’s lips with his, licking into him deep and hard. Richie rocks his hips, and their cocks slide together, making Eddie’s head swim, little shooting stars and sparks going off behind his closed lids. “I’m gonna remember that till I fuckin’ die.”

“Shut up, stupid.”

“We’ll save the mouth fucking for later. Oh! That’s something we can do together. We can fuck each other’s mouths at the same time, ya know? I wanna get my fingers in you when we do it, too. That’d be fun; I’d make it so good for you, Eddie baby.”

Eddie moans, chest hot and heart pounding, and he winces a little when he lifts both hands to tangle his fingers into Richie’s hair with one, the other gripping his hip, syncing them to the same rhythm.

Richie backs out of the kisses he’s been peppering onto Eddie’s naked shoulder in favor of getting on one elbow, slipping his other hand between them. His knuckles bump Eddie’s dick while he wipes the slick of their precum off their stomachs, using it to wet his fingers and palm.

When he grabs them both with his long fingers and calloused palm, Eddie pushes his head back into the mattress and cries out. The sound goes right to Richie’s dick, and he groans out, “Eddie, fuck, fuck.”

Richie strokes them slow and tight, the heat melting Eddie’s bones, and finally, finally his hands start shaking. He spreads his legs and then squeezes them shut, knees tight against Richie’s hips, hands on his ribs. He feels like anyone else would expect help, would want Eddie’s hand between their stomachs doing half of the work.

But not Richie. Richie’s flushed and smiling, lips parted, looking at Eddie like the world has all but evaporated, just Eddie under him, panting, sweating for him. Richie’s hand twists perfectly, carefully, every few passes he curls his thumb over Eddie’s slit, and he keeps their faces close but doesn’t kiss, just watches Eddie’s face.

And for his part, Eddie holds him tight and lets Richie give them their pleasure, thighs trembling, mouth broken open on an endless stream of tiny gasps and needy moans that he couldn’t stop if he tried.

“I’m gonna give you everything, Eds,” Richie says hotly, leaning down until their foreheads touch, sweat blending on clammy skin. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby, I promise.” And Eddie has never felt so fucking good before. 

Sex has always been something he didn’t want or need, didn’t want someone breathing on him, touching him, licking his body fluids, dripping their own salt all over him. But when Richie’s dick leaks sticky, hot precum all over Eddie’s own, when their chests bump and send jolts through Eddie’s taut nipples, when Richie’s lips skid along his cheek, tongue peeking out, Eddie just wants more. 

He’s fingered himself twice with a condom over his fingers, back when they were teens, and he only came because he thought of Richie. But now, he thinks he’d let Richie fuck him bare, raw, nothing between them because that’s what they want. Richie could come inside him and Eddie wouldn’t have a panic attack—he’d just feel good. Richie could fuck his mouth and Eddie would swallow it because it’s  _ Richie.  _ The list of things he wouldn’t do for Richie shrinks smaller and smaller the hazier his mind gets, the tighter that coil of heat in his belly twists.

“I love you,” Eddie exhales, one hand over Richie’s ribs, feeling his heart pounding under skin and bone. “I love you so much, Rich. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ .”

Richie makes an aborted sound, a sob and a laugh fighting for dominance, and then he’s kissing Eddie hard, rougher and deeper than before, and Eddie can taste blood. He’s not sure whose it is.

“Thought I was gonna lose you. Almost lost you. You’re everything to me, Eddie, fucking end of everything. I love you more than fuckin’ anything,” Richie chokes out, and Eddie lifts a hand to push his wet glasses out of the way.

Almost immediately, the tears are touching his cheeks, and he kisses Richie again, Richie’s fist fucking over them both without finesse.

Eddie stutters, his hips rocking up, shaking, and he presses bruises into Richie’s side, bites Richie’s lip and hooks a leg over his bare ass, trying to get him closer.

“Richie, I’m—“

“Fuck, Eds,  _ fuck yes. _ Come on, baby, come,” Richie gasps, curving his spine so he can fist their cocks with less drag.

Eddie can’t help the needy, whiny sound he makes as he spills cum all over Richie’s knuckles, both of their stomachs. The tension snapping from his limbs has him quaking and letting go of Richie without wanting to, the aftershocks and tremors flooding him with heat and sparkly tingles in his toes and fingers.

Richie moans ‘fuck’ over and over like a broken record, still jacking them both, and Eddie lifts a hand and grips his bicep, nails biting. He’s oversensitive and trembling, but he can’t stop wanting this, wanting Richie, and Richie hasn’t finished yet.

“That’s it, that’s fuckin’ it, Rich, give it to me.”

“I can—fuck, Eddie, I can move—“

“On me. I need to feel it, please,” Eddie says, other hand coming up to cup Richie’s face, thumb touching the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Richie says fuck one more time, then, “ _ Oh _ ,  _ Eddie _ ,” the E drawn out as he starts coming, thick ropes spilling over Eddie’s stomach.

He finally lets go of their dicks, his cock spurting up Eddie’s chest, hips bucking in an uncoordinated need for friction.

Eddie drops his head back, pulls Richie down into his chest and keeps him there, so tight his arms shake, the wound throbs.

The world feels slow, honey-thick and warm, and Eddie has Richie pressed down over him, all heavy and right.

“I still came before you,” Eddie growls, “fuck.”

Richie kisses his temple. “We can work on that.”

A few moments pass, and Eddie feels the stickiness of salty sweat drying, and worse...

“Richie, I’m… I’m sorry, really sorry, but can we…? I feel so gross,” Eddie says, quivering but no longer in pleasure. The cum is drying between them. “I’m sorry, it’s not you, th--I--”

Richie curls into him, kissing Eddie’s jaw with a pressing smack. “My love, no worries. I’ve got you. I’ll be right back.” He rolls over off the edge of the bed, bounding naked into the bathroom, and Eddie forgets his disgust in the wake of watching Richie’s ass bounce.

Eddie runs a finger through the mess on his stomach, his own cum, Richie’s, mixed, and he looks at the sticky white fluid on his fingertip. When he touches it to the tip of his tongue, it’s salty, not quite bitter, and Eddie feels his stomach twist in a way that’s both delightful and unpleasant. Shame in finding something so obscene hot, he figures.

“Wow,” Richie says from the doorway, pulling his boxers up over his hips. “That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You licked my cum off your finger and made your long division face.”

“Fuck you, dickbag,” Eddie says, flexing his hand. “Come on, I’m getting sticky.”

“You’re sticky because you got  _ came _ on,” Richie says, grinning like a shithead as he kneels beside Eddie, taking a cool, damp cloth and carefully mopping up the mess on his stomach.

Richie sighs, leaning down to kiss along Eddie’s chest, wiping his stomach and thighs, his neck, his armpits, until he’s feeling less sweaty and gross and much more rung out and pleased. “You’re the prettiest fucking boy I’ve ever seen, Eds.”

“You’re real pretty yourself,” Eddie says, closing his eyes as Richie tosses the rag over the edge of the bed and sidles up next to him.

“Can I?”

“Of course. I was just… you know. Old habits,” Eddie says quietly, and Richie scoots in close, folding his knees up under Eddie’s bent legs, pushing his face into the curve of Eddie’s neck. He’s careful with his hands, touching over the bandage to make sure it hasn’t moved, no blood seeping through even in the heated, heavy-breathed moments.

“I liked it, though,” Eddie says, curling fingers into Richie’s hair.

“Hm?”

“You… finishing on me. It was really hot,” Eddie says, blushing beet red.

“Oh,  _ wow _ , Eddie. Fuck, I’m ready for round two if you are,” Richie says, nipping and kissing at Eddie’s throat.

“You dumb fucking—stop, stop, I’m gonna kill you.”

“From this day forth, all my seed is promised and bequeathed unto you and only you,” Richie proclaims loudly, holding Eddie down when he starts squirming. “I shall only spill when and where you want me to.”

“I’m literally wishing I could just die,” Eddie wheezes, but he can’t fight the smile off his face.

“My boy has come so far. I promise I’ll only ever kiss you if my teeth have been brushed, and to never fondle you with dirty hands. I’ll keep my Eddie spaghetti pristine and yet still satisfied,” Richie promises, kissing Eddie when he can catch his lips.

Eddie feels the world slow down, the edges fuzzy, and he runs his hands through Richie’s sweat-damp hair. “I just… love you.”

Richie is quiet, and when Eddie opens his eyes, Richie’s are closed, the soft, tired smile on his lips stealing Eddie’s breath. “Love you, Eds…”

Eddie bumps their foreheads together, letting Richie wrestle the big comforter over them, catching the warmth coming off their bodies and keeping it close. When he curls into Richie’s chest, wrapped in his arms, Eddie feels the tears start spilling from his eyes, his small, shaky breaths accepted by Richie’s gentle hands.

“Eddie, don’t… don’t cry, love. You fuck  _ way _ better than your mom,” Richie says, and Eddie rolls on top of him, pinning him down with an arm across his throat.

But he’s laughing through tears, Richie’s hands cupping his face, smiling warm and exhausted, and Eddie ducks down and kisses Richie over and over again, eventually getting out, “Tell me you never fucked my mom.”

“Never. I only ever wanted you,” Richie says, sincere yet also giving Eddie that shit-eating grin. He cups Eddie’s cheek, carefully thumbing over the bandage. “I’ll only ever want you, Edward Kaspbrak.”

“This time I won’t let you forget it,” Eddie says, softening the very atoms that make Richie whole and warm in his arms.

“I don’t think we will…” Richie kisses him again. “Can’t forget you if I never let you go.”


End file.
